Distraught
by Mystrothedefender
Summary: Arthur struggles to keep himself sane after the death of his wife. FACE family.
1. Chapter 1

**Here, have a sad story, I hope you like it. **

Through the past few years Arthur's dreams had become more hazy, blurry, he could no longer make out faces or keep track of the dream's plot. But he was happy, and he knew he didn't want to wake up. He couldn't remember what was so bad about his waking life, but he was happy here.

The colours were vivid, the smells and sounds were pleasant, everything seemed perfect. There was a blanket under a tree and a beautiful girl waiting for him, the girl of his dreams, the mother of his children, and there was always so much laughter.

He felt his chest tighten, the vision blurring and turning black, his chest tightening and an odd dizziness filling his head as he began to wake up, he felt the happiness drain from his mind, the feeling giving way to confusion.

He blinked himself awake, his head throbbing and his mouth sour, he sat up slowly, looking at the space on the bed beside him. "Am-Amelia..?" he whispered, frowning. He felt her side of the bed, it was stone cold, it hadn't been slept in. He felt a pang in his gut, he closed his eyes and focussed. She was still in the house, she had to be, he strained his hearing, sure he would be able to hear her.

There were noises coming from the other room, but they weren't her.

If they weren't her, then who were they?

He forced his legs off the edge of the bed, willing himself to move his heavy limbs.

He looked down and frowned. There was something different about himself, but he couldn't put his finger on it. The soft spinning of the room stopped him from concentrating.

A loud knock came from the bedroom door, Arthur's head snapping up at the sound. The door squeaked open before he could say anything, and a small boy walked in.

"Daddy," the boy said with a smile, "Are you coming out for breakfast today? Francis is teaching Mattie to make pancakes."

Arthur frowned down at him, confused, "Alfred…?" he looked the boy up and down, "You've gotten big. How old are you?" he asked slowly.

Alfred laughed softly, "I'm 9, silly daddy," he said, continuing to smile, "Is your memory being weird again?" he reached out to pat Arthur's head.

Arthur shook him off, giving Alfred a soft, faked smile, "What do you mean? …Alfred where's your mother, is she with Francis and Matthew?"

Alfred's smile fell from his face, and he withdrew his hand quickly, "Oh…" he looked down at his feet, "It is being really weird again. I have to get Francis."

Arthur frowned, "Alfred? What are you doing?" He forced himself to try and stand up, he couldn't balance correctly, and flopped back onto the bed with a loud 'humph'.

Alfred gasped and stepped back as Arthur tried to get to his feet, he looked back towards the door, as if readying himself to run. He let out a soft sigh as Francis entered the room with Matthew held tight in his arms.

"Alfred, mon cher, I told you to leave your father alone," Francis said softly, walking into the room and stopping at Alfred's side, running his fingers through Alfred's hair, "Your food is ready, go back into the kitchen, have as much as you want."

The child squirmed slightly, "But Francis I-"

"Go on," Francis said sternly, "We'll be out in a moment."

Alfred whined softly and left, looking back as he closed the door behind him.

Francis swallowed hard as he came to the edge of Arthur's bed, sitting on the edge and bouncing Matthew in his arms, "Arthur, do you feel like getting out of bed today? Matthew and I made pancakes."

Arthur glared at the child in his arms, "Matthew… That's not Matthew, Matthew's a baby. What are you talking about Francis. Why can't I move? Where's Amelia?"

Arthur frowned and watched as Francis practically jumped from the bed, holding Matthew away from him, "Oh, I see," he said, the tone of his voice changing.

"That's not Matthew," Arthur insisted, "…It can't be."

Francis nodded, "I assure you mon amie, it is him. He is 4 years old, do you not remember?"

Arthur stared at the boy, frowning softly, "My Matthew is 4? But…I…"

"Oncle" the boy in his arms squeaked, "J'ai faim…"

Francis bounced him softly, hushing him, "I know, little one, I know, give me a minute."

Arthur grit his teeth, feeling his hands curl into fists, "Was that French?" he asked, aghast, "You're making him speak French?" he growled, "Where's Amelia? She wouldn't let you do this, where is she?"

Francis exhaled slowly, frowning softly through despair, "Arthur… Je suis desole… I never meant to teach him it, he just picked it up."

"Stop speaking it in front of him then, you foul man! Where is Amelia? Why won't you tell me where she is?" Arthur felt himself fuming, his face growing hot and tears pricking his eyes.

Francis exhaled slowly, his frame softening, "…She's dead Arthur, she died when Matthew was born. You know this…"

A breath caught in Arthur's throat, and immediately he felt sick, his mouth hung open as memories suddenly sparked in his mind. Slowly he turned his head, frowning at Francis, "Get out," he said slowly, "Get out of here Francis, I don't want to talk to you."

Francis groaned and bit his lip, looking down at Matthew, "Matthew, let's get you your breakfast ok?" He looked back at Arthur, "I'll come back in a moment to help you dress."

Arthur shook his head, "Don't bother," he spat, "I doubt I'll be leaving the room today. Just get the fuck out of here Francis."

**I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**part 2**

Alfred looked up at Francis as he walked in and placed Matthew in his highchair. He swallowed hard, looking at the pile of pancakes in front of him, he didn't really want to eat it, he wasn't really hungry, but he knew that if he didn't eat then Francis would give him that look, the one that said 'I know you're not happy, but I'm doing the best I can.'

Francis smiled softly at him, cutting up Matthew's pancakes and chuckling as the small boy began to eat them, smearing maple syrup over his face and his plate. "Alfred, are you going to eat?" Francis asked softly.

Alfred nodded, "Yes Francis, I am," he looked down at the mound of food, wishing that the sight of it didn't sicken him, pancakes were one of his favourite breakfast foods. "…Why is daddy's memory being weird?" he asked quietly, knowing that the question would make Francis uncomfortable but being unable to stop himself asking.

"Uh," Francis sighed, sounding a little distracted as he focussed on Matthew's food, "It just is sometimes, he's very ill, Alfred. He can't help it."

Alfred chewed his lip, shifting n his chair, "I heard shouting last night, you were telling daddy he was ill because he drinks so much."

Francis nodded, "Drinking is how he deals with his illness, but it's not like medicine so it doesn't work."

"Will he die like mommy did?" he asked almost absently, finally picking up his fork and eating his food.

Francis frowned and shook his head, "No of course not Alfred, don't be silly," he glanced away, "I hope not at least." He cleared his throat, "You're papa's going to be with you for as long as he can, he does want to help you, he just gets mixed up sometimes."

Alfred huffed slightly, "Sometimes I wish he would, so that he can be with mommy, and he won't be confused anymore."

Francis let out a half-gasp, "Alfred, how can you say that? You should never wish death on anyone, not for any reason and especially not your own father." He huffed and shook his head, "Just.. be quiet and eat your food."

Alfred looked up at him sadly, eating the last of his pancakes, "… I think it would be good for him to see her."

Francis smiled softly, knowing the child meant well, "He's not ready yet, it'll just make him more confused, you know how angry he gets when he's confused… We could go and see her? I think that'd be nice. You can tell her that I taught you to bake cookies, we could take her some of the left over ones, I think she'd enjoy them."

Alfred smiled widely and nodded, "Yeah!" he squeaked happily, "I think she'd like them."

Francis nodded, biting his lip at the boy's enthusiasm, "Genial, go and get dressed and we'll go out."

Francis pulled Matthew from his high seat, "You hear that young man? We're going to see your mother today."

Matthew grinned happily, "Bon, I like talking to mummy."

Francis nodded and wiped the boy's face, placing him on the floor. "Go and find Alfred and he'll help you dress, I have to go and talk with your papa, ok."

He watched the boy run off, turning towards Arthur's room again, the smile dropping from his face as he knocked on the door, "Arthur, I'm coming in, I'm going to help you change. You don't have to leave the bed but you can't stay in your pyjamas all day."

He pushed the door open before hearing an answer, seeing Arthur curled up on he bed and shuddering slightly, "…Oh, Arty," he frowned as he came to him, running his hand up his side, "You know you really don't make this easy." He exhaled slowly and pulled back the covers, "Come on, get up. Your children and I are going to the cemetery so I don't have time to bath you today, but I am going to dress you, sit up."

Arthur groaned slightly as he sat up, "F-Francis? I though I told you to leave."

Francis coughed slightly, "I will do after you're dressed, and after I brush your teeth… I'm taking the boys out for an hour or so ok? Would you like me to put a film on for you? The time machine? You always used to like that film."

Arthur shook his head, "No, no I don't want to. Can't I go back to sleep, I don't want to…" he groaned slightly, "I told you to leave," he said loudly, trying to shake Francis away from him.

Francis stood and walked to the wardrobe, opening it and sighing, "How about blue today?" he smiled as he pulled out a light blue shirt, showing it to Arthur, "You always liked blue."

Arthur whined, looking at the clothing as if it were the most terrifying thing he'd seen, "No I… No! Francis put it back, stop touching my things," he insisted, moving to get out of the bed, every twitch of his muscles making him feel sick.

Francis frowned at him, taking the opportunity to pull the shirt over his head, covering the vest the man had slept in. He smiled softly, "There, you look as smart as you did your last day of college. Remember the party we went to, you threw up all over that poor man's car."

Arthur flopped back onto the bed, his head spinning as he stared down at his shirt, "…I remember," he drawled out, frowning up at Francis, "You were meant to drive me home but you left with some slut.. A-Amy had to drive me home."

"… She hated when you called her Amy, she hated how you pronounced it."

Arthur nodded, "She… She likes Amelia, because it sounds like a fairy-tale." He lifted the shirt to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. "Tell me she's not dead, please, this is just a bad dream and one day I'll wake up."

Francis swallowed hard, shaking his head, "I can't Arthur, I keep having to tell you. She is gone, I'm sorry, but it's true, she's not coming back."

Arthur growled, taking the lamp from his bedside table and throwing it at his friend, "Then get out!" he screeched, forcing himself to his feet again, "Get the fuck out I never want to see you again!"

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